Make Your Choice
by Obsidian Sam
Summary: I'm not doing this because I like to. You think this is fun for me? Being Izaya Orihara is a challenge in its self... but, who's to say being Izumi is any different?  fem! Izaya Izumi  and Shizuo. Shizaya. Flamers welcome.
1. C H A P T E R  1

**Sammy says: Hey guys. So, I'm sorry about the promised oneshots, but I've kind of gotten out of my One Piece kick. Again, I'm sorry. I will write it, I've just been preoccupied with school and original things. It's a shit excuse, but I've got some of the clarity I need to have the proper conviction for my won original works. Anywho, this is a Durarara! fic. I won't say anymore because I hope that this piece will speak for its self.** **Falmers are more than welcome, but I will warn you that I bite back and your grammar better be perfect or else I'll tear you to shreds. '3' Yeah… and with out further ado:**

**_Disclaimer:_ Durarara isn't mine, although I really wish I had legal rights to Shizu-chan…**

**Sammy says sommore!: My brilliant beta is IcarusWing. She is officially the best editor ever, and I appreciate her advice and honesty. **

As difficult as it is to clamp down on my embarrassment, and go to Ikebukuro for such a trivial thing, it seems I haven't a choice in the matter. I really can't help it, this part of me that's been suppressed so ruthlessly.

It demands at least this. 

I make my way through the midday hustle and bustle, furry hood up over my eyes and head down, trying to blend in as well as I can. I dart down a back alley, hospital in sight. I'm almost there.

The relief is almost too sweet.

"IZAYA!" My name rips through the air like a bullet from a gun, hitting me where it hurts most.

"Oi, flea." A tall, blonde, protozoan garbed as a bartender walks into the dim, dank alley.

I grin, easily falling into my role as the antagonist. "Hello, Shizu-chan."

Gritting his teeth he snarls, "What are you doing here? I told you to stay the hell outta 'Bukuro."

"Ah, Shizu-chan, Shizu-chan," My sing-song voice is coupled with a smirk, the purpose of both being to provoke the temperamental blonde. "Ikebukuro is just too full of adorable little humans to stay out of."

He growls deep in his chest in a way that would almost scare me if it weren't for my tenacious ways. "You stink."

Laughing, I can't help but to teasingly retort, "Oh, my. I thought that one died in elementary school."

"IIIIZZAAAYYY…" As he slowly walks towards me with death in his eyes, my gaze flitters behind me to the hospital.

_So close…_

"Always violence, Shizu-chan…" I shrug, dancing out of his way as he uproots a sign the way a child would pick a daisy. "Perhaps it's all your protozoan brain can comprehend."

He brandishes the sign, a giant perversion of a flower with its crinkled gleaming metal pole and iridescent yellow petals proclaiming 'YIELD.' "What do you want, flea?"

I give him the most innocent look I can muster. "Nothing, just visiting."

"Oh sure," He manages to corner me, grabbing my jacket and pinning me against a wall. "Here to destroy people's lives."

"No, no Shizu-chan," I sigh theatrically, "you've got it all wrong."

He growls the most animalistic growl I've heard to date. "Then what?"

I glare, narrowing my eyes down to slits. "I don't believe that's any of your business, Shizu-chan."

He presses me harder against the wall, getting in my face for good measure. "Since you're in my town, I believe it is."

This irritates me. The nature of my visit is innocent enough. Get in, get my meds, and get out unnoticed. Simple. "I was going to the hospital."

"And why's that?" He returns my glare, multiplying my murderous intent ten-fold.

My usually nonexistent temper flares. "Because Shinra can't get me the medicine I need for this."

I'm fairly sure his expression matches mine. Eyes narrowed, glaring, a deep scowl set upon an angry face. "Why don't I take you there?"

_Curse your suspicious nature!_ I think, wishing him to the bottom of the Atlantic.

"No way in Hell." I snort, imagining a bunch of frightened women and my doctor staring. "I can't have you in there with me, Shizu-chan. It simply can't be done."

"And why the fuck is that, Izaya?" He presses me harder yet against the wall, confusion in his stupid, enraged brown irises.

I manage, thank Kami, to sound as sarcastic as I normally would. "I'd tell you if it wasn't such a big goddamn deal." I relax against the wall, willing the most honest look I can to the surface. "But unfortunately, it is. So I can't."

Looking more than slightly confused, he releases me, jamming the sign post back into the ground. It reminds me of a child making a garden out of dead sticks in a sand box. "Just don't cause any trouble."

"Understood. I'm just here because the doctors in Shinjuku are incompetent." Suddenly feeling very winded, I come up with a lie swiftly. "It's asthma medication, if you really must know."

"Hm." He obviously doesn't buy it. If judging by the suspicious drag he takes on his freshly lit cigarette is any sort of a clue. "Of course."

And as suddenly as he'd come, the mammoth protozoan is gone, walking away.

_Good fucking riddance. _I glower after his retreating figure, wishing that looks could kill.

All-but running into the clinic, I sit in the waiting room after signing in, not at all paying attention to the other women around me.

Yes, other women.

I'm a girl too.


	2. C H A P T E R  2

**_Sammy says:_ I'm not putting another disclaimer after this chapter. We all know that I don't own Durarara! and there's honestly no need to rub it in. This chapter is written in dedication to my first three reviewers! You know who you are! **

**Also, I'd like to thank IcarusWing for being the best beta ever.**

**_Disclaimer:_ No ownies! I don't, and probably, never will own Durarara! so piss off and don't sue me.**

"Izumi…" My gynecologist, Hatsune-san, is scolding me.

_Again_.

If anything, I should be lecturing her. _I'm_ not the one who transferred to a different hospital.

"If you keep binding your chest like this, you run the risk of deforming you ribs. Besides that, it restricts your breathing and that's a problem in itself."

"I'll try to bind less, then." I shrug. This is a normal topic of conversation, one I've had to deal with time and time again. "There's really not much I can do about it. Appearances and all that."

_And my ribs are just fine, thanks._

Doctor Hatsune sighs, shaking her graying head. The woman was the nurse in my middle school whom I came crying to when I started my period. Imagine, bleeding from places you were told you didn't have.

It was an absolute _nightmare._

"Be careful, child." She warns, as always, smiling for me like she does every time I come. The lines in her face have just begun to set in, and I'm half way tempted to recommend a good hair stylist to her.

With the amount of money I pay her, I know she can afford it.

Scribbling down a prescription for Midol and Birth Control, she sends me on my way. I pay her at the front desk, get my medicine from the pharmacy and leave.

"All in the same building, at least." I mutter, trying to convince myself that it's for the best.

The streets of Ikebukuro are alive with humans, even at night. They walk around in their artificial lights, bright as day and neon colored to boot. It's a beautiful cacophony of culture, sounds, and illumination that puts a falsely welcoming face on an otherwise unfriendly town.

Making my way out of the brightly glowing town, I can't help but wonder what that single-brain-celled brute is up to.

_Not that I care. _

I unlock my apartment door, grateful for it being Namie's day off. I'm not sure if I can deal with her and her incestuous tendencies today. She and that brother of hers, what's-his-name….

I decide I don't care as I swallow a Midol and turn on my computer. It's not like the brat has anything important to do with my game anymore. He has his poser, stalker girlfriend who his sister brought back to life for him. I can only laugh at the irony of my secretary's hatred for the girl that she wishes were dead. 

_Again._

A new e-mail pops up on my screen, prompting me to click it. It proclaims first thing how much my newest client will pay for a job.

I bask in the glory that is information broking. Lots of money for simple tasks? No problem!

Just pay me in cash.

_Orihara-san,_

_I apologize for inconveniencing you, but there's a matter we need looked into. It has to do with…_

Skimming over the message, I grin. Information on an old patient of Shinra's? Really, now? As if _that's_ a challenge. I have the underground doctor wrapped around my pinky finger, and I _know_ he can't resist my cute face.

Yes, even _I_ have a cute face.

Pacing in front of my window, I wait for my call to go through.

"_Hello?"_

I give him friendly greeting. "Hi, Shinra!"

"_Izaya, hey!" _I can't help but smirk. _"What's up?"_

"You mind if I drop by? I've got an assignment. Plus," I add quickly, remembering how he hates to think that I'm using him. "I haven't seen you in a while. It'll be great to catch up."

"_Okay," _Shinra, as easy-going as ever, agrees. _"Try not to piss off Shizuo, okay?"_

"Alright," I agree, pondering the best way to get there _without_ angering the aforementioned blonde.

Exchanging good-byes and hanging up, I start the trek to the doctor's apartment in relative peace. It's a warm night, and the sky is clear, not that you can see any stars. Ikebukuro is way too bright for that.

Ringing Shinra's apartment door, I can't help but wonder if Celty's in. She already doesn't like me…

_Probably because her head is in my desk drawer. _

She wouldn't be happy about my coming here. Not in the least. I mean, we're civil to each other, but that's all. We don't talk like she and Shizu-chan do.

It's kind of fitting, when you think about it. Two creatures that shouldn't exist confiding in each other, and it's ironic that her human boyfriend and I have the same relationship. Minus the paranormal activity, of course.

"Hey there!" Said boyfriend buzzes me in, opening up the door for me.

"Hey," I grin, following him inside and taking off my shoes.

"Sorry, Celty's not here. I'll tell her you stopped by, though."

A mix of disappointment and relief sinks in as I follow him into to the living room. It makes me uneasy knowing that if she's not here, she's probably out talking to Shizu-chan about our latest escapade.

"So how's life?" He asks plopping down on the couch, motioning for me to do the same.

I oblige, sitting beside him. Quickly glancing around the spacious apartment, I notice that it hasn't changed much since high school, aside from being less… childish? Teenager-inhabiting?

Dorky?

"It's been… interesting." I don't feel the need to keep up appearances with Shinra. I sit on my feet, slouching like I don't even have a spine.

Of course, that's _only_ because Shinra knows already.

"'Interesting' as in PMSing and assignments that are too easy?"

Scratch that. He knows _me_ already. Much better than anyone else cares to.

I sigh, theatrically slumping into his sofa. "You caught me."

"I'm sorry I can't get you your, er… stuff." The good doctor blushes a light pink, which I do him the service of ignoring.

"Girly things?" I beam like the Cheshire cat, reveling in his discomfort.

"Um, yeah…" he says, sheepishly scratching the back of his mousey brown head.

"You're such a prude." I giggle, enjoying the bespectacled man's pout.

"S-so were you!" He defends.

I give a delighted little squeak. "Oh, Shinra, Shinra!" Calming myself, I amend. "I'm just teasing you. We both were."

His impish smile and boyish good looks are nothing short of adorable. Celty should be happy. The man loves her more than enough for four people.

Speaking of which…

"So how are the two of you?" I inquire, doing my best to sound like I actually care and I'm not just being polite.

Which, of course, I am.

Shinra lights up and begins talking about his beautiful Celty a mile a minute. He plans to marry her, as he just mentioned for the third—

"—We're going to be engaged!—"

—_Fourth_ time.

A green cell phone enters my field of vision, and I quickly take in the text.

_[Izaya! I didn't know you were here!]_

I hastily sit up, wincing when Shinra gets punched in the stomach for attempting to hug his fiancé in front of company.

_Or it could just be me…_

"I was just stopping by to catch up," I tell the headless rider, looking at my eyes reflected in her black smoke filled helmet. It's the closest to eye contact I can get. "I also needed to get some information about a patient."

_[Which one?]_

The response seems a little wary, but I really could care less. I know she doesn't trust me.

I relay the name to the both of them, and in moments the files are e-mailed to my computer. I'm out the door before I have time to read Celty's hastily texted good-bye.

Hearing Shinra scold her through the door, I make my get away before the odd couple can decide they want me back.

_It's not like there was much left to say, anyway…_

"_IIIIZAAAAYYYAAAAA!"_

Can I just say… _fuck my life?_

Deciding it's better not to engage him, I run.

I turn a corner the enraged cry of,_ "I'll GET you, flea!"_ following close behind.

_Shit! Shit! Not good!_

I'm just a little bit ahead of him, despite my efforts, and my lungs are on _fire._

I just can't manage to get a deep breath, but despite this, I force myself faster.

"GET BACK HERE YOU FUCKING PARASITE!"

I dart around a corner, hiding and watching as the shiny metal of a stop sign flashes in the mouth of the alley.

I feel like there's a permanent stitch in my side, only it's higher up and way deep in my chest.

The thought of _'can't breathe!'_ spreads through my brain like a wild fire. Gasping quietly, I curl up in a ball, waiting for it to pass.

_If it passes..._

I only hope that the beast gives me enough time to catch my stolen breath.


	3. C H A P T E R  3

**_Sammy says: _Hey thar! So, I've been hammered with tests this week and I've been strangely irritable because I've been getting a lot of favorites with out reviews. Now, guys, that's kind of a slap in the face. If you're going to favorite something, at least tell me why. Why did you like it? Why is it fav worthy?**

**Also, I'm updating this often because I've been actually getting requests for continuation. If those stop, these chapters will remain beta-ed and on my computer until the cows come home.**

_**Disclaimer:**_ **I'm a fifteen year-old with only a blue laptop and an L plushie to my name. Do you **_**think**_** I own Durarara!**

Falling, falling, falling.

I've always loved the feeling of it, knowing that in those few seconds suspended in the air, I'm completely free of everything but the oxygen in my lunges.

But this time, there is no oxygen in my lungs and I'm firmly on the ground.

My peripheral vision is filled with steadily advancing sparkles and I'm so nauseous I think I'd puke up my intestines if I could.

Kami… is that possible?

Shaking myself, I gather my resolve. I need a minute to gather myself up and get out of the city.

"_IIIIZZAAAYAAA!"_

A minute I obviously don't have.

I drag myself to my feet, ignoring the spinning world and advancing of the hazy sparkles. For a moment, I'm disoriented. Which way's out of the alley? Which way is deeper in?

I force myself to take deep breaths, in spite of the pain in my chest.

"Just get home…" I whisper, praying that Shizu-chan's not with in range to hear me. "All I need to do is get home…"

And somehow, miraculously, I do. It's a slow painful process in which my body is stricken with vertigo, rib pain, and, above all else, panic.

What if I fall? What if I pass out?

_What if somebody _sees_ me?_

I grit my teeth against all of them, locking my door and making my way up the stairs at a turtles pace. I strip myself of my shirt and binder, looking for bruises or any sort of mark that would explain my discomfort. Sadly, I'm unable to find any hint of an injury before another wave of sickness falls over my head, weighing me down like a soaking wet wool blanket. Crawling into my bed, I'm scarcely coherent enough to pull blankets over my unbound chest in the event that Namie, as she so often does, barges into my house unannounced and walks into my room. Would it really be so bad… to have everyone know?

Sadly, as the darkness I've been fighting takes me, I'm afraid it would be.

"Izaya?" Some one opens my bedroom door, waking me from what a would-be peaceful sleep.

I sneer. "Get the fuck out, Namie…"

"It's not Namie."

I sit blot up right, ignoring my dizziness. "What the hell?" I cry, unable to comprehend the person in front of me.

Why is… What is Shinra doing in my room?

I glance down, noticing how my chest is still clearly feminine, even through the sheets.

_Wait, how is he even in my goddamn _house_?_

"How the hell did you get in here? Wh-what the _hell_, Shinra?"

"I picked the lock," He says, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. "Mikado, called me yesterday and said he saw you in the city—and that you looked like you were going to collapse."

I lay back on my bed, paying the worlds sudden jarring no heed. "You _picked_ my _lock_?"

"Good thing I did, too." Shinra smiles, oblivious to the obvious inflections in my voice. Soothingly, he explains, "I had to. From what Mikado described, you looked like you were dying."

Try as I might, I can't muster the proper amount of furry I should be able to at Shinra's invasion of my privacy. His concern has me flashing briefly back to when we were kids and he took care of me then.

_He's seen me with less clothes on at any given time during high school... _I reason, explaining my ailments to him in a half detached manner, letting him examine my bare ribs.

Pondering it over, the doctor digs through his bag of tricks. "I see…" He pulls out an_ 'L'_ shaped bit of plastic with a metal cylinder bit sticking out of the top of it.

I stare at him blankly when proffers the no doubt dubiously acquired object.

"It should help until I can find the actual root of the problem."

Blinking I reach out with a shaking hand to take it.

It looks far to pale and frail to be _my_ hand.

"In the mean time, I would suggest not binding your chest. At all." sharpest look I've received from him in years. "_Ever_, if at all possible."

I gape at him. "B-but you know that I—"He gives the

"Izaya…" He sighs, sitting on the edge of my bed. "Izumi, sweetie, you've got to let this go. There's not much anyone can do to you anymore."

I laugh hollowly. "Yeah," I agree. "Aside from, ya know, killing me."

Shinra grins cheekily. "You're much too quick for that."

Damn him and that smile…

"Just give me a moment…" Eyes brightening in excitement, the doctor gets up and walks to my closet. He flings it open, rifling through it until he finds my underwear drawer.

Throwing a bra on my bed, he yanks a jacket he got for me when we were in collage off of a hanger, tossing it to me along with another undergarment and a gray skirt.

_I didn't even think I _owned_ a skirt…_

"Take this tank top and you'll be all set." He pitches the final black article of clothing into my face and promptly takes its place, invading my personal space with all the practice of a seasoned veteran.

"You _will_ wear them, girlie."

I cringe at the blatantly derogatory use of a would-be term of endearment.

"We'll worry about your short hair in a moment." He yanks my bedspread off of me, meeting my blank gaze with a glare of his own. "Go shower. Get dressed. Come back here."

He's giving me the look most commonly used on new, interesting experiments.

I swallow hard, using the inhaler I'd been begrudgingly gifted and standing only to wobble pathetically. I can practically feel all of the blood rush out of my head and to my feet.

"I'm putting you on a vitamin. Your vertigo is probably a direct result of this unintentional anorexia you've developed."

"I don't have time to eat!" I protest through my bathroom door. "There are too many interesting humans to watch to stop and do something as trivial as _eat_."

"You're human yourself," he reminds me, yelling, as I can barely hear him of the splashing of my shower. "You need rest and food as much as the rest of us."

I'd love to argue, I really would. But somehow…

Now doesn't seem like the _best_ time…

Stepping out, I towel off, glad of mother natures gift having the good grace to end today.

Slipping on under clothes that are distinctly foreign and… _girlie…_ I put on a skirt over legs that I've pain-stakingly managed to shave with out losing a layer of skin and put the black tank on over underarms with a similar story.

Turning to the coat, I wince. It's like my jacket, except it's white. With pink fur and equally buttons instead of a zipper.

_Oh good god… I can't _believe_ I'm doing this…_

I take a deep breath, putting on the most feminine ensemble I'd worn since I was five, and emerge from the bathroom.

"Good." Shinra looks me over, circling around me in a way that makes me feel very small. "Very good."

Grabbing my wrist and dragging me downstairs to my kitchen, he points to toast with bright orange bottle next to it.

"Eat it, then take a vitamin."

I don't even dare disobey the man who has me dressed up as something I'd been denying all my life. I scarf the partially singed bread, and choke down a horse pill.

I'm snapping, livid at myself for not being able to think away out of this situation. "Happy?"

"Not until you admit this is a good plan."

I refuse. Because it's_ not._

"Come now, Izu-chan," If he sees me wince at my birth name's butchering, he doesn't call me out on it. "This is you're big chance to see the world! You're not Izaya Orihara right now, you're _Izumi_ Orihara."

"We're the same person, Shinra." I suddenly feel a headache coming on. I rub my temples and wish that I hadn't gone anywhere yesterday.

"We'll see…" He winks in a way that would have convinced me that he was a psychopath if I didn't already know otherwise for a fact.

_Make that _desperately_ wish that I hadn't gone anywhere._

"This could open up a whole new world of opportunities!" The not-so-good doctor cries. "Just put on the wig and I'll take your picture and get you some documentation."

_Or gotten out of bed._

I very nearly can't stop myself from doing a double take.

_For the past _week_._

"You got me a _wig_?"

"Call it a safety measure, if you will." Grinning he plops a box on my table, opening it up and showing me it's contents. "Just incase those clothes actually looked right on you. Which," he adds quickly, seeing the look of incredulity that has frozen in place on my face. "They do, of course."

"_You got me a wig?"_ I squeak, staring at the mass of brown-black hair in the bottom of the box.

He picks up the expensive looking hairball, holding it up to me.

"Put it on."

Upon being met with a blank stare, the underworld's doctor takes it upon himself to arrange the shaggily cut wig on my head. He pins it in place, looking like he's enjoying himself far too much for heterosexual male with a girlfriend.

Or fiancé, as he claims…

With a kind of glee found only in the mentally disturbed, he combs through the fake hair with his fingers and beams like a cosmetologist who just got tipped for doing her first good job. "There! Perfect!"

I reach up to touch the wig, finding it to be somebody's actual hair and not just a cheep plastic imitation. You have to place orders for these things and it take time to find someone willing to spare the their long-grown locks…

Which, of course, prompts the question, "When the _hell _did you get me a wig?"

Rolling his eyes, Shinra gives me this look. One that demands just how ungrateful I plan to be before accepting his help. "Izumi… if you keep this up the way you have been, in could cause lasting damage."

I shrug. As a meddlesome informant with a passion for putting people in situations of all sorts, I'd gathered that my life expectancy was a bit… shorter than everyone else's.

Thus, the Dulahan head hidden in my office.

"You are going to try this, or Kami help me, I'll make you move in with Celty and I and get married to Simon."

Eyes widening, I realize that I've put myself in a very bad, and potentially inescapable situation.

Nearly choking on my toast, I splutter. "You're going to blackmail me?"

"Only if I have to." He says calmly, sitting backwards in his chair and leaning on his forearms on the table.

"_You_ are going to blackmail _me?_"

I could laugh and I could cry. This… this.

It's an unexpected kettle of fish, that's to be certain.

"Essentially, yes." He grins. "I change peoples faces for a living. I could make you up so nobody would know and send you out on the street. I wager that even _Shizuo_ wouldn't recognize you right now, especially if you let me—"

Slamming my head into the table might've been a bad idea, considering how dizzy I'd been the past couple of days, but I couldn't care less.

_Fuck my life. _

"I always wanted another girl to talk to when I was growing up," I groan, begrudgingly enjoying the way my wig covers my face. "Thank you, Shinra. You're an excellent proxy."

So, despite my ever-dwindling pride and sense of self respect, I let the doctor make up my face. I bitch about how uncomfortable and itchy the stuff is the entire time, but none the less.

He _better_ be fucking happy I'm too lightheaded to stab him.

This does _not_ bode well, and I'm _not_ excited to see how the world reacts to Izumi Orihara.

That's for _goddamn_ sure.


	4. C H A P T E R  4

**_Sammy says: _Well. Here you have it. Chapter four. I was sick, so I apologize for taking forever to update. **

**So, next Thursday is my birthday! Hurray! **

**Not really… Sixteen is not nearly so sweet as they make it sound, and I've no patience for romantic endeavors so the whole "sweet sixteen" thing is pretty lost on me. What I want for my birthday is a long, uninterrupted silence in which I have all the time in the world to work on everything I need to. Plus, I have finals then. Sucks to be me.**

**I know, pessimistic, right?**

**Well… I'm well known for my Peter Pan complex, so it's not really an issue.**

**I will try to update for you guys before then. If not, then you kind of have to deal for a little bit guys. As I've probably been force feed too many sugary things and my system is purging. **

**_Disclaimer:_ Again, the _word_ should be enough. I don't own it, blah, blah, blah… Don't sue me, BLAH!**

Let me make one thing, unmistakably, _painfully_ clear:

_I DO NOT WANT TO BE HERE!_

Shinra, the sadistic bubbly little shit that he is, decided that it would oh, so very _fun_ to take me shopping for woman's clothing. At first, I thought he was kidding. I'm out of my comfort zone as it is. He practically had to drag me out of my apartment, making promises to take the first stop sign to the skull should Shizuo rear his ugly head. Why would he push my limits any more than absolutely necessary?

I was confident that he was joking until he dragged me into a department store with enough pink sundresses to outfit half of Tokyo.

Trying desperately to imagine myself anywhere but here, I concentrate on the flowered pattern of a lace fedora I've picked up instead of watching Shinra run around a store that should hold absolutely no interest for him whatsoever.

Suddenly invading my personal space, once again, he holds a red mini dress up to me to see if it'll fit. This has been going on for the past twenty or so minutes, as I've become an immovable object in the hat department. Adding the dress to a pile that's grown disgustingly big, he goes on to yet _another_ part of the store, collecting skirts at a disturbing rate.

Eventually, he managed to cram me into a dressing room with all his findings. He asks me to come out and show him how things are fitting me, because I have no idea how these weird bits of fabric are supposed to look or settle on my frame. He jumps up at the occasional getup I come out with, squealing about the occasional shirt that looks _'Sooooo cute!'_ on me.

I could kill him. I could seriously fucking _end _him right now.

So now, with a bunch of the female workers standing around giggling about how _sweet_ it is that a boyfriend would help his girlfriend shop, I'm forced to try on half clothes in the goddamn store, with increasingly more input from the peanut gallery.

_Fuck. My. Life._

And then, of course, he somehow manages to lift my credit card from my wallet, which he's, of course, replaced with a more feminine pink and white fake leather thing that's shaped disturbingly like a cat's head with a pink bow, and puts all of it on _my _checking account.

And then, _THEN,_ he has the nerve to ditch me in the middle of _Ikebukuro _for an 'emergency' doctor thing.

_At least he helped get the bags back to my apartment…_ I sigh, too exasperated and angry for words. I'm convinced that my unwilling shopping spree was a waste of my time and money. I'll never have use for a red dress, even if I do decide to keep this up for a while.

I observe the interesting humans around me, noting that they're not afraid of Shizu-chan coming to end me, therefore living their lives much more comfortably and naturally for me to observe.

_Being able to study people at length _undisturbed_ might actually make this little dress up game worth keeping around…_ I look in a sweetshop window, idly considering going in to buy some sour candies.

"_IIIIZAYAAAA!"_

I freeze, blood running cold. I told Shinra… I _told_ him that'd Shizuo would be able to smell me.

I turn to face him, wide-eyed, reminding myself not to force my voice into the deeper, male tone I usually speak. _If I can disengage this…_

_Scratch that, he's coming this way!_

_I don't have my switch blade!_ My mind runs at a mile a minute, trying to process the best escape plan possible.

A sign I hadn't seen until now, freezes inches from colliding with my head.

"Who the hell're you, lady?" The enraged blonde asks, well, yells, un-pocketing blue sunglasses and putting them over brown eyes. "And why do you smell like that Flea?"

"I-I, um…" I'm not sure how to respond to the sudden, intelligent conversation I've been presented with. "I'm Izumi." Good. That's a start. "I-I wasn't aware I smelled any better or worse than anyone else on this street…"

_Attitude. That's good…_ A voice encourages from the back of my mind.

I hadn't even thought to think up a plausible personality for Izumi… _shit…_

"Well, you do." He snaps, clearly noticing, and becoming aggravated, with my standoffishness under his gaze. He takes a deep breath, and, to my amazement, attempts to calm himself. "Sorry about that." He seems to mean it, startlingly enough.

I'm half tempted to tell him 'Do you often attack people whose smells you don't like?' but I restrain myself, waving off his apology in favor of saying, "I'll forgive you if you buy me coffee."

I could _beat _myself with that shouldered sign post.

He raises a brown eyebrow, barely keeping his rage from surfacing. "Now, why would I do that?" 

"Or I could scream rape." I offer, grinning. "I really don't want to. I'd rather know how you got so strong." I indicate the shouldered street sign, sighing. "But… if I must…"

_Multiple times._

I cup my hands around my mouth, as if getting ready to do as I've threatened.

"Alright!" He grabs at one of my wrists, dragging it down from my face, looking as if he'd like to snap my neck. "Just don't be so goddamn irritating, and you might survive it."

I give him a mock salute, leading the way to a café just across the street. It's a crappy little place, with even crappier décor, but they do make a good cup of coffee.

"So," He says with exaggerated patience. "What did you want to ask?"

I ignore that nagging voice in the back of my mind telling me it'd be much more fun to tease him or stab him than ask a question. The answer of which _I_ already know.

But Izumi, however, does not.

"How can you do that? Tear up signs and stuff like that?"

So, he explains to me what Shinra already has, in less detail and with unrefined vocabulary, but it's basically the same thing. A receptor in his brain that would limit his strength and pain tolerance is shot and he can pretty much lift whatever he wants now because he's broken all of his bones so many times they're indestructible.

"Wow…" I mutter, sipping at my black coffee. "That must have been really hard for you."

The only difference between his version and Shinra's is the emotion behind his voice when he speaks of his ability's discovery. I know the story already, of course, but hearing him say it...

It's defiantly an experience.

"It was," He agrees, drinking some over-the-top sugary coffee thing. "Believe me, it was."

The following silence is awkward and uncomfortable as my enemy and I drink our caffeinated beverages.

"Look, it's been…" He struggles for a good way to describe our blackmail induced coffee break.

"Stimulating?" I suggest, tossing my styrofoam cup in a trash receptor. 

"Yeah," He forces himself not to crack a smile. "That. But I've gotta go back to work."

I agree, lying about having someplace I need to be. We exit the store, about to go our separate ways...

But I can't resist.

"Have fun!" I call teasingly after his retreating form, receiving a withering look in response.

_Interesting._ I think, walking home. It wasn't too overly… horrible.

Still, I don't think I'll be doing it again. It was _way_ too risky.

_Since when do I not live for a little risk?_ My subconscious argues. 

But I already know the answer to that.

_Since this secret became the only one I can't sell for a pretty penny._

**_Sammy's salute: _Hey, don't complain about it being short. This was the best I could do with my head leaking questionable liquids due to a sinus infection.**

_**REVIEW!**_


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